Trill Of The Devil's Tongue
by LxIsxJustice
Summary: "My Bocchan has never accepted failure," Sebastian replied simply, smiling and making a shooing motion towards the stage. It is the night of the biggest party in demon history, and Lucifer has made an odd request. Sebastian/Ciel


**Hahaha, do NOT even ask how I came up with this fic. It was a combination of watching a Sebastian cosplayer at ACEN play an awesome rendition of "Devil's Trill Sonata" and someone saying that Satan was probably like Alois. Thus, this strangeness was born. I really have nothing to say other than I hope you all enjoy it! The link to the song is below.**

**http: / www. Youtube . com / watch?v= aM28l Gur_H0 (Remove Spaces)**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Kuroshitsuji.**

"All artists are vain, selfish and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives lies a mystery. Creating is a long, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing, if one were not driven by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand."

It is the time of year when inhabitants of The Other World gather for a grand show indeed.

At the end of each world, each earth—for there have been thousands—each group of the divine meets and congratulates themselves on a job well done. The Angels and Nephilim raise their voices in an eerily haunting tune that longs for a bit of revelry, bound to the heavens no matter what they wish.

The Reapers' Battle rivals and surpasses the great Trojan War, their death scythes flashing and whirling as they prove their worth for the next earth's challenges. Ghosts frolic together and feast on the last remnants of air in the old world, while ghouls and harpies get drunk on the seas that have long since turned to blood.

The gods are by far the most boring of the lot, content to sit on their thrones and carriages and just watch, as they have always done.

But…it is the demons that have the best show of them all.

When asked what goes on in Hell during this time by other supernatural creatures, their lips are sealed and they simply wink, refusing to allay the secrets of Lucifer's delightful programme to anyone not invited. They might crash the party, after all, and really, who wants _Angels_ at their biggest to-do anyways?

But the little known nuance is that, in fact, the demons don't know either.

The only ones who knew what would go on at the World End party in Hell is Lucifer himself, and his right hand demon turned party-planner, Beelzebub. The stoic demon never snitches; partially because Lucifer is _positive_ he's going to slip someday (and is _very_ much looking forward to catching him), but mostly because he's a sadistic bastard that enjoys making the other demons whine about his secrecy.

But this year, things are going to be a little different. Exceptions have been made and the rumor is going around that one other demon has been informed of the goings-on. No one knows who it is, because rank has never had much bearing on information, but that doesn't matter. The effects matter.

If even _one _other demon knows, then that means Beelzebub is planning something _so_ ridiculously elaborate, that he needs _help_. Which means that Lucifer is in the best mood possible, and wants to treat his servants to something extra special.

_Special_ is hard to come by in Hell. When nothing is off limits, it quickly becomes difficult to top yourself. That is why Lucifer has spoken with a certain demon, an old friend and previous ambassador of Hell: Corson. Corson was a _maestro _of the Sins, his visage the most beautiful of the demons, second only to Lucifer. He had acted as liaison between Heaven and Hell during the Wars, until he retired, saying that he would very much like to focus of his music. An odd request, but one that had proven worthwhile when, mere centuries later, he presented the Dark King with a piece of such magnitude, that Lucifer had _nearly_ fallen to his knees before the lesser demon. Though that would normally deserve punishment of the most hellish—pun intended—kind, Lucifer clapped delightedly, his tiny hands sending shockwaves throughout the earth. "Oh how marvelous, Corson! I am so _terribly_ pleased that your efforts have been fruitful," the child laughed, his voice like tinkling bells in the breeze.

It was a common misconception among all groups of people that Lucifer, Satan, The Serpent, whatever they decided to call him nowadays, was somehow comprehensible.

In fact, the opposite was true. Lucifer could, by all accounts, appear as whatever the hell he wanted. He could be beautiful or ugly, terrifying or cloyingly sweet, sinfully lustful or his favorite form: an innocent child. It was this form he liked best, and though everyone guessed, no one ever knew exactly _why_. His reasoning changed every time anyone asked anyways.

Ah well, the King of Hell was allowed to have some secrets. Lord knew the paparazzi were always after him.

And so, Lucifer had called the demon to his side once again and they'd had tea. Lucifer was in a phase of liking English things at the moment, and so the official language of Hell was currently English, the demons were instructed to speak in accents, and tea was mandatory. Or else.

It was splendid.

Their chat took the wide roads of this and that, until Lucifer asked the question pressing on his mind. "I have been wondering, has any _human_ ever mastered that ungodly, beautiful song of yours? I have tried to have other demons duplicate it, to no avail, but for some reason, it just seems as though it was meant for a human."

Corson smiled, nodding his head vigorously. "My King is very perceptive. It has been several thousand millennia since I wrote that song, and I have been searching for one who could play it the way it was intended. I must admit, as an artist, I tire of hearing my own rendition, and wished to see others perform it. But every demon, angel, and reaper has failed spectacularly. I suppose that it's because they know the Other World, and play it so mundanely, as though it is nothing special. But then I realized…" Lucifer leaned forward, head on his hands and gazing in child-like anticipation. "It was never meant for the Other World. It was meant to be a cry from the earth. A human's contract song."

"I see. Then, that is why we haven't seen you around for the past twelve earths. You've been searching."

Corson nodded again and smiled gleefully. "And I have found him! Finally, all my efforts have been appreciated. I had to go through millions of obnoxiously boring humans, but the search is over." He gazed adoringly at his sovereign. "If I may be so bold, My King, he is…very much like you."

That piqued Lucifer's interest. "Oh? That surprises me; a human, like the ruler of Hell? I fail to see any connection."

A secret smile lit Corson's face. "Ah, you would see if you met him. I get the feeling you would become 'fast friends' as they say." Lucifer tapped a finger against his soft lips, musing to himself.

"A human and the King of the Underworld, friends…now I am very intrigued. You do not lie, Corson, and you have never been wrong before. If this human is truly all you profess him to be, then I simply must meet him. Ah! Even better, I demand that he play your song at the World End Party! Oh, this will be such fun!" he crowed.

Surprise flit across the demon's face, before a sly smile took its place. "Of course, my King. I am sure he would be honored to. It is a very good idea."

Lucifer hummed, happy to have figured out what he wanted to do for the party. "See to it, then, that he is ready. Beelzebub will plan the rest, but I'm leaving you in charge of the entertainment."

"Yes, my King."

xXx

The night of revelry came, and anticipation was running so high it was nearly tangible.

Demons put on their best—which was to say, most wore almost nothing—and weaved in and out of the crowd, talking of the conquests and victories they had made in that particular earth and drinking the blood of the saints they had beheaded just for the occasion.

While the party was going on outside the center stage of the Vatican (oh, sweet, lovely, beautiful irony!), behind the theatre stood two figures, one dressed in the garb of a butler and one dressed in an almost sinfully covering outfit that hid his small frame and left both everything and nothing to the imagination.

"This is stupid, Sebastian. I cannot believe you volunteered me for this! I'm going to mess up and probably get eaten, and you are going to lose your reputation and be out of a meal you have been waiting for _how long_ now to eat?" Ciel Phantomhive nearly stamped his foot in frustration.

"Let's see, ahh, I believe the next world's first December will mark the six hundredth and sixty sixth year since I made the contract with you. Oh my! That is a very special year, Bocchan. If we were married, the gift of this year would have something to do with 'recreating memory'. Do you want to know what my present would be Bocchan?" Sebastian, or more well known among the demons as Corson, replied gleefully, smirking at the younger male.

Ciel glared at his butler. They had been together for centuries now, Lucifer's demand that the human who could play Corson's song play at the World's End party had inevitably left the two it affected in a bit of a pickle. Though Sebastian had long fulfilled his side of the contract, he now had orders from his King to keep the boy alive. Not that he was complaining, because he had been reluctant to let go of Ciel anyways, but hunger could be quite bothersome when it got to the level he'd been at.

So Ciel had suggested a compromise; something that surprised Sebastian more than he expected. Ciel wasn't one to typically be generous. Over their time together, the former earl had learned many things about the inner workings of Hell and the various types of demons that inhabited it. With no need for secrecy, since Ciel was going to witness it all first hand, Sebastian had decided it would be a good idea to educate his Bocchan so the boy wouldn't, ah, make waves with poor etiquette. Ciel had learned as much as possible, confused and frustrated most of the time, but one thing he had taken to heart was that Sebastian was an incubus demon. Not that it _really_ surprised Ciel—his butler was too desirable for his own good, and he wasn't even in true form—but the first question from his mouth shocked Sebastian thoroughly (a rare feat).

"So why is it we haven't had sex?"

"Wha—?" had been the very elegant reply.

Ciel had been quite disgruntled about the fact that he had lusted after the demon for two god forsaken _centuries_, and only now was he given the information he could have used towards that very purpose! That was when he'd proposed the compromise. Incubi fed not only on souls, but also sexual energy. If Sebastian couldn't yet consume his soul, he could certainly sustain himself if they had sexual relations. Well, who was Sebastian to disagree?

"Idiot," he mumbled in response to Sebastian's previous question about gifts, which he realized the demon was actually expecting an answer to. He breathed out shakily when he felt hands caress down his spine, warm nose nuzzling his neck and a ticklish breath across his cheek.

"My gift to you, Bocchan, would be recreating our first night together."

Ciel shivered, the memory playing through his mind vividly. Sebastian had been so incredibly gentle, letting Ciel take his time exploring and not growing impatient or angry when Ciel would back away with memories of the abuse he had suffered at the tender age of ten. They had talked for the first time about those memories, Sebastian's lips kissing away each tear and creating new, much better memories in their place.

It was the first time Ciel had ever felt free of his past.

"Only this time, Bocchan, no memories of that month would torture you, nothing would be pressing on your heart," the demon continued to whisper into his ear. His neck lolled to the side, allowing those sinful lips that whispered such heavenly things to place light, open mouth kisses on the column of his throat. "You would be free of everything that ever caused you harm, and…" the kissing stopped for a moment, and Ciel could feel Sebastian smile softly against his neck. "This time, I would tell you I loved you."

Ciel's breath hitched and strained for a moment before settling back into its rhythm. Love…it was a sentiment that Sebastian rarely talked about, rarely spoke out loud, and that made it all the more special to hear. Especially given their current surroundings, where anyone could walk in and overhear.

"That…would be a very nice present," he said breathily, sighing when he felt Sebastian pull away and kiss his hair affectionately.

"Hmm, you think so? I've had a long time to plan it. Well, we won't know if I'll succeed until the next world's first December," Sebastian chuckled, stepping back to allow Ciel to collect himself.

"Idiot, you succeed at everything. I hear them settling in, I should probably stand near the stage so I'm ready." He breathed deeply, calming himself to prepare for the performance. Standing on tiptoe, he placed a quick kiss on his butler's lips. "You succeed at everything, which means you've succeeded in teaching me this incredible song. I won't fail," he said against Sebastian's lips, before withdrawing with a smirk.

"My Bocchan has never accepted failure," Sebastian replied simply, smiling and making a shooing motion towards the stage.

The crowd tittered and giggled and shushed each other as the red lights dimmed, and a bright spotlight—almost like that of Heaven—lit center stage. A rippling gasp went through the demons assembled as a young, very _human_ boy strode confidently onto the platform, holding a violin. All eyes turned to Lucifer, sitting in a raised box seat, with a smirk on his pretty lips and twirled his blonde hair with his fingers.

The silence was deafening, as the boy stopped, turned to face the crowd, and looked directly up into the eyes of the King of Hell from across the room.

"Ah, I see," Lucifer murmured softly. Corson was always right.

The boy bowed deeply to the crowd, raised his arms in the proper position for his instrument, and took one more steadying breath.

Blissful silence.

A heavy melody began, the notes echoing in the still room, the first notes of a song that had never been perfected by anyone other than the _maestro_ himself. Sebastian, leaning against a column on the side of the Vatican, smiled gently as he watched his Bocchan play the song that was perhaps, meant for him all along.

The slow melody floated and drifted in the dry pseudo-wind of the dead earth.

Strings vibrated and took on a double chord, sweet melancholy and subtle ache present in both the melody and the face of a human boy who had lost everything, and yet refused to be beaten into submission. Those first moments of bitter sadness and desperation as he called into the darkness for someone, _anyone_ to save him. Sometimes Sebastian wondered what would have happened if he hadn't answered that call. Existence, he believed, would have forever been rendered pointless.

The mournful notes drifted off slowly, before a quiet pause momentarily gave the crowd rest from such burdening emotion. Demons leaned forward in anticipation, and Lucifer grinned, glad he was not going to be caught off guard. His subordinates were in for a surprise.

Ciel's eyes suddenly shot open, and hid hands began a rapid series of movements that were almost like dancing in their own way, though his feet stayed still. The uplifting trilling of the violin was spun throughout the courtyards and the ashen trees surrounding the ruins of the theatre. The notes almost sounded like relief to be alive, and the tentative grip on the world, in an effort to remind ones-self that there was a reason—a purpose—to keep fighting. It was the lyrical cadence of one who had been rescued.

The boy's hands sped, trilling almost impossibly fast, before suddenly the song shifted once more into slowness, only this time it was with anguish, not melancholy. Whatever had rescued and redeemed was gone. The gathered demons could feel the agony of losing something precious; to what did not matter. All that mattered were the effects. If this child was the story behind the music, then he, at that moment, knew what it meant to be destroyed, obliterated, though your body lived on and your soul remained intact.

Sebastian frowned, watching as a tear that no one else would notice drifted down the side of Ciel's face. Had his master truly thought he was dead that time? He had played it off so well later, but Sebastian wondered if his Bocchan had thought Sebastian would use it as an excuse to disappear. What a horrid thought.

The crowd was practically squirming in their seats, trying to understand why the backs of their eyes burned and why they had the sudden urge to clutch this delicate child to their chests and protect him from all that they represented. Lucifer sniggered behind a hand, delighted by this boy that Corson had compared him too. Oh yes, they were _very_ much alike. Born from the ashes, raised in esteem by everyone around them, fragile and yet stronger than anyone else, beautiful, arrogant, and skilled in manipulating the masses. Alike indeed…

The frenzy of notes now emanating from the instrument soared higher and higher, the epitome of ecstasy rising, the rapturous joy of being held in amorous embraces one did not know the heights of as of yet. This the demons could understand, and the sudden spike in heat was tangible. Bodies shuddered and writhed slightly, trying not to be noticed so they wouldn't ruin the show.

Sebastian, Lucifer, and Ciel all grinned at the same moment. Sebastian and Ciel remembering some _very_ specific memories, and Lucifer watching them remember said specific memories. Oh my, was Corson smitten? He laughed gaily, fluttering his fingers in time to the trilling of the violin. It took a _very_ special creature indeed to turn Corson into this kind of puddle of demon. He was liking Ciel more and more. It was no light thing to be noticed by the Devil. Probably not something to make a goal either.

The trilling took on an unbearable height in both speed and pitch, and several screams erupted in the audience that went unheeded. Then, just as suddenly as the fever was started, it—

Stopped.

The last few notes were struck almost violently, before the only sounds left of the song were the echoes reverberating in the minds of the audience.

Before even a second could pass, the crowd erupted into rapturous applause, unearthly screaming and howling (and a few cat calls and wolf whistles) resounding through the deadened earth. Lucifer signaled the end of the show, and devils quickly moved to the courtyards to chatter excitedly about the show to top the rest.

Still inside the theatre, Ciel nearly slumped into Sebastian with relief. "Never again," he muttered into his butler's jacket. Gods, he was drained from all that emotion. But he was grinning fit to break his face, and he knew Sebastian probably had the same look.

"You played to perfection, Bocchan. I think my King will agree?" he directed the question over Ciel's head and the former earl's eyes traveled over to where the beautiful child stood watching them with a satisfied smirk.

"Oh, absolutely. Ciel, it is a _pleasure_ to make your acquaintance," he said in a voice that passed for sincerity, but who knows what the Devil is ever really thinking. "I can see why Corson spoke so highly of you."

Ciel nodded, before stepping out of Sebastian's arms and giving a short bow in thanks. "Your Majesty is generous. It is Seb—Corson that deserves credit. He is the genius behind the song, I am merely the vessel."

Lucifer giggled and wagged a finger at Ciel. "Ooh, I _do_ love false modesty! But I think we both know that Corson doesn't teach just anybody that song." He winked at the former earl, who let go of the pretense and smirked. "How strange that a human is responsible for turning my _maestro_ of sin into a softie."

Sebastian's eyes went wide, and he began to protest when Lucifer waved it away. "I didn't say that was a bad thing, silly. Just unexpected. It's was enjoyable to watch your face, Corson, as he played. Thinking of 'good times', hm?"

Ciel sniggered at the guilty expression on Sebastian's face. He had been right. Lucifer was thoroughly incomprehensible.

"Oh! Speaking of which, did you ever name the song, Corson? I remember you said something about needing a better name than you had come up with."

At this, Sebastian gave a wide grin and looked down to Ciel. "My Bocchan named it for me. I think he meant to mock me, but I took quite a shine to it."

"Oh? What is the title?"

Ciel looked between the two for a moment, before replying innocently, "_Trill of the Devil's Tongue."_

_Finis_

**Read and Review! Lolol, I don't know why I found this so funny, but I did. Writing an Alois-esque Devil was interesting.**


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